


States of Life

by wandering_gypsy_feet



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Engagment, F/M, Married Couple, Married Sandor Clegane/Sansa Stark, Minnesota, Modern AU, University of Minnesota Golden Gophers, Wedding, baby!, sansa x sandor - Freeform, sansan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-24
Updated: 2019-08-24
Packaged: 2020-09-07 18:55:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20314366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wandering_gypsy_feet/pseuds/wandering_gypsy_feet
Summary: The most important moments of Sansa Stark's life with Sandor Clegane - engagements, weddings, and babies. A happily ever after for Minnesota's biggest love birds.





	States of Life

**Author's Note:**

> oh, more minnesota??? i will never say no to more minnesota!!! featuring the stone arch bridge (check it out) and the art garden (plz check that out!) and so so much sansan
> 
> plz enjoy!!!

“Do you remember our first date?” Sansa asked Sandor, putting on her lipstick carefully in the mirror. Sandor made a noise of amusement, sticking his head around the door frame.

“Obviously. That’s why we’re doing this.”

“It was the best first date,” Sansa said fondly, throwing the lipstick in her purse and grabbing the curling iron to touch up a few of the curls around her face.

“The date or the guy?” Sandor called, disappearing back into his closet and Sansa grinned.

“The date because you danced with me.”

“I always dance with you. You’re always dancing, I don’t really have a choice. It’s dance or get trampled honey.”

“I would never trample, I am far too graceful.” Sansa flipped her hair upside down and gave it a good shake for volume then righted herself. “You ready?”

“Ready.” Sandor was already at the door, holding it open for her.

“Thank you sweetheart.” Sansa gave him a kiss as she passed by, tucking her purse into the crook of her arm. Sandor took her hand in the elevator and they smiled at each other. Fingers still intertwined, they stepped out of the building and into the crisp fall air.

It had been three years since they’d started dating, almost to the day. Since their actual anniversary fell in the middle of the week, Sandor had told her that they’d celebrate this weekend. He suggested they walk down along the river and then over to the restaurant where they’d have dinner. They’d already done the farmer’s market this morning and made themselves a delicious lunch. Sansa was still rather full, and was glad that they’d be walking.

“Sunset’s pretty,” Sandor remarked and Sansa hummed in agreement, laying her head on his shoulder. They walked down to the Stone Arch Bridge in a comfortable silence, Sansa quite happy with the day. The night was balmy, and she was comfortable in her dress and jacket. Sandor looked extremely nice as well, which surprised her slightly. The restaurant where they were going wasn’t the fanciest, but she wasn’t one to complain.

“This is so nice,” Sansa said, squeezing his hand. The bridge was full of people as always; young girls rollerblading past, parents jogging with strollers and dogs, a photographer taking pictures of the view, tourist groups on seg-ways, and couples just like them, talking and laughing and holding hands.

“Yeah, it is.” Sandor tugged her to a stop and Sansa went to the railing, glancing down at the water rushing past under them. Then he repeated his earlier question. “Do you remember our first date?”

“Of course.” Sansa turned to him, nonplussed.

“We’ve had a lot of dates since but I still think that one is my favorite,” he revealed and she smiled up at him.

“Yeah, mine too.”

“Did you, uh, know that it was when I decided to marry you?” he rubbed the back of his head with a rather sheepish smile. Sansa touched his cheek, smiling.

“No, you told me that you fell in love with me on news years,” she reminded him and he nodded.

“Yeah, I fell in love with you that night, but when we went on that date, I knew I wanted to marry you,” he explained and Sansa tilted her head, nonplussed.

“What’s the difference?” to her, it seemed like there wasn't one, but she'd long ago learned to stop assuming that Sandor's mind worked anything like her own. 

“That night, I just kept thinking about how special you were.” Sandor stepped forward and tucked a curl behind her ear, his grey eyes soft in the hazy sunset light. “You weren’t anything like I thought you’d be. So happy, bubbly, outgoing, and just so sweet. I was pretty much in love with you the first time we met, but new years was when I realized that I could see myself saying it back to you. Out loud. Repeatedly. Forever, without the idea fucking terrifying me. But before all that, we went on a date.

“That date was different. You were different. I spent the entire time watching you and waiting for the magic to sort of wear off, to make you seem a little less special but it never did. And I thought to myself, god life with this girl would be so much fun. And I begin to start imagining what it would be like to be married to you. All the laughter and dancing and happiness.”

“And has it lived up to it so far?” Sansa teased him and Sandor ducked his head down to give her a kiss on the forehead, still knowing that whenever she had lipstick on, her lips were off limits.

“There’s a lot more yelling about hockey than I thought there’d be, but that only makes it better.”

“I try.” Sansa gave him a kiss then went to start walking along the bridge again, but Sandor stayed where he was. Sansa turned back around, her forehead creasing in confusion. They did have reservations, and he was almost more punctual than she was. “Babe, we’re gonna be late, come— oh!”

Sandor had dropped down to one knee, still holding onto her left hand. Sansa’s mind was curiously blank - she knew, from the many, many wedding and engagement related accounts she followed on instagram that this was a proposal, but she couldn’t grasp that it was her proposal. From her Sandor.

“Sansa Isabelle Stark, I have loved you for a long time. And I’ve wanted to marry you for just as long. And you know how much I love you and how the words aren’t even enough for it. So please agree to spend every day after this one dancing together and laughing together and maybe even crying together because the Wild will never win a Stanley Cup—”

“Yes we will!” Sansa interrupted him passionately and his face broke into a grin.

“Little bird. You’re my yesterday. You’re my tomorrow. You’re my always. Marry me, please?”

“Oh my god.” tears were flowing down her cheeks and when she reached up to wipe them away, her hands trembled. She knew she was babbling, but her mouth didn't seem to be forming any other words, as cliche as it seemed. “Oh my god, oh my god.”

“Oh, wait, hold on.” Sandor reached around to flip open the little black box he was holding so that he could reveal the ring inside it. Sansa gasped, the glint flashing in the setting sun. That made it real. She felt a warmth spread from her chest to every inch of her body, and then her mouth caught up to what she'd been yelling inside her head since she turned around and saw him. 

“Yes,” she finally managed to speak, slightly strangled. “Yes, yes, oh my god, Sandor, yes!”

“Yes?” his whole face lit up in happiness. “You’ll marry me?”

“God, yes!” she shrieked, then flung herself into his arms. Sandor grunted slightly but caught her. After a second, Sansa remembered that he was still kneeling and stepped back, helping him up. A semicircle of spectators were applauding them and Sansa cast them all a wavering smile as Sandor slipped the ring on her finger.

“Finally!” that yell could only be Talisa and Sansa turned in bewilderment to see where her sister-in-law was coming from. To her surprise, Talisa was leading the pack of her family up the bridge towards them.

“What?” she looked up in confusion at Sandor, who was grinning from ear to ear.

“Surprise,” he whispered and before she had anything else to say, she was engulfed in a hug by Talisa and her mother, then her father and Robb and Rickon and everyone else.

“We get to plan a wedding!” her mother was crying with such gusto that Sansa was briefly concerned for her.

“You planned a wedding for Robb,” Arya reminded her pointedly and Robb waved a hand.

“That was more an elopement, this is going to be on the true grand Catelyn Stark level.” Robb was grinning, bouncing his sons on his hips. “Congrats. I think this means you’re not my baby sister anymore.”

“I’ll always be your baby sister.” Sansa reached for Alek, and then caught sight of her ring properly for the first time. It was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen; emerald cut with several baguettes on each side and so sparkly.

“Do you like it?” Talisa had an incredibly smug smile on her face. “I saw the one you bookmarked on instagram. I sent it to Sandor.”

“It’s perfect!” Sansa exclaimed, truthfully, giving Sandor a little side hug while Alek hugged her tightly. Her head was still spinning; later she would take the ring off and marvel at every cut and line, the perfect shape of it on her finger, and the little engraving on the inner band that read '_little bird'. _But right now she could only squeeze Alek and beam at Sandor, never wanting to take her eyes off of him. 

“The one on insta was 4 carats, so I sized down slightly,” Sandor admitted and Sansa grinned, kissing his cheek.

“It’s perfect. I love you so much,” she said softly and he pulled her close, beaming. "Alek, Sandor is going to be your uncle!" 

"San-san!" Alek yelled with gusto, still not quite able to get the hint of saying Sansa and Sandor back to back. 

"Yes, exactly." Sandor leaned over to muss up Alek's hair affectionately. 

“Come on, we all have reservations to get to,” Ned declared, smiling at her.

“Oh, one thing first!” Sandor turned and Sansa’s family stepped aside so that the photographer could step up, smiling. Sansa understood in an instant, gasping and squeezing Sandor’s hand.

“I can share them with you shortly,” the photographer told her, showing her the photos. Sandor and her, standing and chatting. Sandor kneeling. Sansa’s expression of shock. Her delight. The kiss. The mad rush of her family to congratulate them.

“Thank you,” Sansa said truly and then she was rushed away by her large family, all of them chattering and clamoring about the wedding. Rickon was insisting that it be hockey themed, while Catelyn was already running through a list of people who needed to come with Talisa. Sansa found herself next to Pod and Arya, who raised one eyebrow, her grey eyes sparkling with mischief.

“A wedding, huh?”

“A wedding.” Sansa nodded, the full weight of what had happened now hitting her. She looked down at her ring, then back at Arya. “Oh fuck, mom’s gonna plan the whole thing isn’t she?”

“I’ll make sure you have booze.” Arya looped her arm through Sansa’s. “Lots and lots of booze.”

* * *

“Here.” Arya pressed a glass into Sansa’s hand. She risked her mother killing her to open her eye a crack to see that it was a mimosa, complete with frozen raspberries in it instead of ice, just the way Sansa liked it.

“Thank you,” she whispered carefully, trying not to ruin the makeup artist’s work.

“Do you want to drink that sweetie?” the artist asked her kindly and Sansa peeked at him, nodding slightly. “Go ahead. I won’t do your lip till later.”

“Bless you.” Sansa opened her eyes and took a long drink, sighing. All around her was the chatter of her bridesmaids getting ready, but no one had seemed to notice that she was watching them. Talisa was engrossed in a conversation with Jeyne while Margaery was gesturing broadly with her hands, nearly spilling her mimosa all over Ygritte. Arya was distracting Catelyn for her, so Sansa quickly drank the rest of her mimosa, head spinning slightly.

“Taking that a little fast.” her makeup artist was named Miguel and he was very sweet, but he had yet to meet Sansa’s mother, so she just gave him a little smile. “Are you nervous?”

“A little,” she admitted, “but not about the actual marriage part. I love my husband so much. It’s the whole lead up that has me a bit…. Frazzled.”

“Well, you won’t look frazzled when I’m done with you,” he promised, grabbing the eyeshadow palette. “Now sit back and relax. You’ll be done with makeup before you know it, alright?”

“Alright.” Sansa did as told, reminding herself that this would be fun. She would enjoy it. Or at least, it would all be over after today and she could take her honeymoon with Sandor and never think about napkin color schemes ever again.

“Sansa!” her mother shattered her zen not ten minutes later. “You should be getting into your dress by now!”

“Really?” Sansa consulted the watch she was wearing; it was Sandor’s. He’d pressed it into her hands last night after the rehearsal dinner and before her sister had taken her home with a wink. She’d made him a promise to give it back at their first look so that she could keep track of time. It reassured her, having a bit of him with her now.

“Yes, the schedule!” Catelyn was pointing rather aggressively to a laminated binder that Sansa knew was full of timelines and to-do lists. That off-white and baby pink printed wedding binder had been the source of her grief since the moment Sandor proposed.

“Am I almost done?” she asked Miguel, who frowned slightly and brushed just a little bit more blush on her cheekbones.

“There,” he declared, satisfied.

“Hurry, now.” Catelyn tugged Sansa out of the chair and past her chittering bridesmaids.

“Mom, how about I do this?” Arya was standing in front of the door to the bedroom, arms crossed in a rather defiant nature. “That way the first time you see Sansa, she’s in her dress.”

“That would be a remarkable shot,” commented Beth Cassel, Sansa’s photographer and Catelyn hesitated.

“Do you know how to get it on?” she asked them worriedly and Arya rolled her eyes.

“Mom, it’s a dress not a cryptex. Put Sansa in the dress, zip up dress, done.”

“Let me do the veil though!” Catelyn insisted as Arya ushered Sansa into the bedroom.

“Yeah, yeah, sure.” Arya shut the door in their mother’s face, then pointed to the nightstand where there was a second mimosa waiting.

“You’re like my angel.” Sansa rushed for it.

“You remember you said that when I’m shit-faced hammered at your wedding dance,” Arya warned, going to where Sansa’s dress was still hanging on the window frame from pictures earlier. The lace was lit through with the light and Sansa was breathless with happiness at how ethereal it all seemed. Her wedding was full of stress and Catelyn’s dictations, but Sansa’s dress had been a choice all her own.

“I will.” Sansa chuckled and then slipped out of the white silk robe the girls had gotten for her that had ‘bride’ embroidered on the back in gold. All the other bridesmaids had matching ones that were reversed, gold with white writing, but Arya had pointedly refused. Her maid of honor robe was black and lacked any lace or glitter. Sansa considered the fact that she was in a silk robe at all to be a win. “Not to be, uh, mom, but do you know how to put me in this?”

“Yeah, actually, I do.” Arya carefully arranged the dress so that Sansa could easily step into it without damaging the delicate lace train. “I’ve gone to every single fitting with this dress.”

“Sorry mom’s made you do all this wedding stuff,” Sansa apologized, using Arya’s shoulder to steady herself as she stepped into the dress. Two mimosas in a short amount of time usually wouldn’t be enough to knock her on her ass, but this week had been a rush of last minute fitting, hair and nail appointments, and decoration assemble and set up. All the stress had shot Sansa’s appetite down to nothing. The mimosas were hitting her just a bit harder than she thought they would.

“I don’t mind, actually,” Arya admitted without meeting Sansa’s eyes. “It’s been fun. Plus all the pressure has been on you, so that’s fun.”

“Thanks for being my maid of honor,” Sansa said softly and she knew she wasn’t mistaken when she saw the faint hint of a smile on Arya’s face.

The wedding had proven to be the best thing for them to bond; Arya was always on hand to gently mock Catelyn when she was being extravagant or to tell their mother to shove it when she wasn't listening to Sansa's ideas. They'd communicated even more, whether it was bemoaning the intricate floral arrangements Catelyn kept sending them or to gush over how cute their nephews looked in their miniature suits. She'd even thrown Sansa a killer bachelorette party with almost all her friends in a huge AirBnB in New Mexico, complete with a spa retreat and wellness focused yoga courses every day. 

“Stop being sappy." Arya snapped her fingers, all business today. "Finish that mimosa before I zip you in. Do you have to pee? I’m not unzipping this thing every twenty minutes for you to pee you know.”

Catelyn promptly burst into tears when Sansa walked out to show them her wedding dress. It was a rather magnificent thing, she had to admit. It was skintight and lace, hugging tight to her hips, torso, and bust. It was backless and the train was the best part; when it was extended as long as it could go, it was nearly 15 feet. Sansa loved it so much, even if it was incredibly hard to walk in. The sleeves were also long and dramatic, trailing behind her as she walked.

The veil was her grandmother’s, the one Catelyn had worn at her wedding and now Sansa’s turn. Her hair was bound up in an elaborate bun. She knew Sandor loved it more when her hair was down and loose, but she had too much of it for that today. The lace on the edge of the heirloom veil was beautifully done and Sansa held her breath as Catelyn slipped the comb into her hair before turning to face everyone. Even Arya’s face had softened into happiness for her and Sansa felt her own tears welling up.

“No!” shouted Talisa, gesturing frantically. “Don’t cry and ruin the makeup!”

“I won’t.” Sansa waved a hand that trembled. “Is it, uh, time for me to go see Sandor?”

“Yes, and we can help you get all ready to go.” Gilly and Dany were her personal attendants and they carefully helped her into the waiting car.

“I’ll get the girls into their bridesmaid dresses!” promised Catelyn, waving as the car whisked her away for pictures with Sandor. There was peace for a moment in the car that she savored before Dany handed her another mimosa but in a plastic bottle. Sansa grinned and gave a little sob at the same time.

“I’m sorry, I think I’m just overwhelmed!”

“Breathe,” Gilly said helpfully and Sansa gave them both a wavering smile, trying to breathe deeply.

“He is not going to know what hit him,” Dany told her, giving her hand a squeeze. Sansa smiled at them both and tried to relax, sipping the mimosa.

She and Sandor were having some solo pictures done in the sculpture garden while everyone else arrived at the church for the mass. She was meeting Sandor by the ‘LOVE’ structure and she kept reminding herself to breathe as she walked across the garden to where it stood. When she saw him there, in the black tux, his back to her, all her nerves melted away. She exhaled, a smile coming across her face so wide it nearly hurt. She could vaguely hear Beth in the background, taking photos, but all that mattered was Sandor.

She tapped his shoulder when she was close and for a second he didn’t move. Then he turned, slowly, and tears sprang to his grey eyes. His scar was hardly noticeable, not when his face was alight with such joy. His hair was down and soft to the touch, and his tux was cut to every angle of his large body. She’d never seen anyone who looked half as handsome as he did. 

“Hi,” she whispered as he took her hand and brought it up to his lips in a soft kiss. He shook his head, speechless, then leaned forward and pressed their foreheads together. Sansa shut her eyes and let everything wash away. All the stress, anger, hurt, tears, harsh words, and frustration in planning the wedding combined could not overshadow this moment. It was too perfect. 

"You look...." he trailed off, pulling back to get a better look at her. Her cheeks hurt from smiling so much and all she could do was nod. 

"Yeah, you too," she whispered and he gently traced her jaw, grinning. "I have something for you." 

"You do?" his eyebrows briefly furrowed in confusion until Sansa lifted her sleeve slightly so that she could undo the watch. He laughed, relaxing. 

"Did you really wear that all day?" he asked, holding out his wrist so that she could clasp it on him. 

"I did. Arya took my phone in case anyone tried to get ahold of me, so that she could tell them that all the questions could be answered by the wedding website. I needed something to keep me on schedule," she said cheekily and he grinned, adjusting it before shaking his sleeves down over it. "And it made me feel better, like I had you there with me." 

"I'm here with you now," he promised, taking her hand and tucking it in with his. "I'm always going to be by your side now, Mrs. Clegane." 

"Mrs. Stark-Clegane," she corrected him with a quick peck and he chuckled. Beth began to order them around and so they set off.

Their solo photos were a quiet, happy affair. They walked through the garden, occasionally glancing up at each other and exchanging gleeful smiles, like they were shocked it was actually happening. Sansa cherished their alone time, trying to soak in the reminder that this was all real. Here she was, marrying Sandor. His wife. Forever. All the happiness, especially that the planning was finally over and done. 

The peace was shattered when everyone else arrived for photos, including Sansa’s entire family and the bridal party.

“Rickon!” Catelyn shrieked, running after her youngest, who seemed to be pondering if he should attempt to climb the iconic spoon and cherry stature. “Do not touch that or so help me god I will—!”

“Need,” Sansa muttered, sticking her hand out to Arya. Without comment, Arya hiked up her blush dress so that she could grab that flask she had strapped to her leg. Sansa took a swig before Catelyn could look. Talisa, huffing after having wrangled Rhett and Alek away from a mud puddle, stole it from her and took her own drink. Yrgitte even left off kissing Jon long enough to try to filch a drink from them. 

“Is this over?” Sandor asked them, looking a bit like a caged animal.

“No,” Talisa said shortly. “We still have pictures and an entire catholic mass.”

“And that’s not short,” Robb reminded him, trying to swipe the flask and being thwarted by Arya. “Please let me have some!”

“In case anyone is of the mind to care, and it may not be anyone’s responsibility, especially the bride and groom’s, but I would like to inform you that Marg is currently trying to seduce the best man,” Gilly informed them all rapidly, before Catelyn drug Rickon back over to the group by the ear.

“Bronn and Margaery?” Sansa craned her head to try and get a look. “Is that a good idea?”

“Undoubtably no, but we’ve got bigger things to worry about today,” Sandor reminded her as Catelyn shouted for Arya to stop slouching for the family photo.

“You’re right, but someone should stop that before it becomes a train wreck,” Sansa decided and Gilly flashed her the thumbs up.

“I am so on it boss.”

“Isn’t a wedding all about just getting married?” Sandor remarked, as the photographer ordered them about and Catelyn fretted over when they’d need to arrive to the church on time.

“No, it’s about pomp and circumstance,” Sansa corrected him, before handing him the flask and making sure Rickon didn't steal it. “But if you drink, it seems a lot more fun.”

“Are you drunk?” Sandor questioned, his eyes glinting with amusement.

“Either drink it or I will,” Sansa ordered and he did, grinning.

“God, do I love you little bird.”

“I know,” she said cheekily.

“Oh, is that so?” he raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah, because if you didn’t, you wouldn’t do all this,” she responded teasingly and he ignored the photographer’s orders for them to face forward so that he could pull her close and give her a kiss.

* * *

Talisa. She should tell Talisa. But Talisa was absolutely shit at keeping secrets. She’d tell Robb, who’d tell Jon, and then the whole family would know.

Arya then. But Arya had no practical experience with this, so her advice wouldn’t hold much weight.

Her mother. She had plenty of practical experience, but she’d have all the judgement. And the last thing Sansa wanted right now was judgement.

Jeyne. She would keep it secret. And she had some experience, if not indirectly. Plus she would be sweet and kind about it. Except Jeyne was on her honeymoon with Beric in Bora Bora and had explicitly told all of them that she was turning her phone off and spending a week off grid with her new husband.

“Mrs. Clegane?” the contractor outside the bathroom door gently rapped on it, startling her. “Can we, uh, come in?”

“Oh my gosh, yes!” Sansa stood up and opened the door, doing her best to stop looking shocked. “I’m so sorry.”

“No worries.” he gave her a bright smile as they moved the supplies into the bathroom. Sansa gave him a smile then hastily retreated to her bedroom. The house that they’d bought in Seattle was beautiful, nestled up into the side of the hill with more privacy and freedom than she’d expected to find out here. The only downside to it had been the interior; last updated sometime around when Sansa’s grandmother had been trying her hand at furnishing a house. Sansa didn’t mind overseeing the overhaul of shag carpeting and wood paneling removal while Sandor was at work, but it did mean that her house was overrun with contractors and subcontractors when she really wanted a moment of peace.

She sat down heavily on the bed, hands trembling as she pulled out the item that was causing her such grief in the bathroom. She stared at it, mind still struggling to comprehend exactly what it meant. All logic had fled her brain at the sight of it.

A tiny pink plus.

Positive.

The pregnancy test had been a whim. She’d been tired and nauseous for a week or so, but had mainly chalked that up to the move, the renovation, and the fact that she’d been eating sushi practically nonstop since she and Sandor had moved to Seattle. She’d taken it just to rule it out, but here it was, positive.

A baby.

“Fuck,” she whispered, closing her eyes. A baby. They’d been in Seattle less than a month. Sandor started his first season as an NHL coach in just two months. It was not her plan. It was not their plan, especially now. She was having her baby so far from home. From her family. She just wanted to tell someone, and though she knew it should be Sandor, she was scared of his reaction. They’d wanted to wait. And he was so nervous to be a father anyways.

He’d only agreed to it recently; he’d been having so much practice with Talisa and Robb’s boys, and doing so well. Alek especially loved his uncle Sandor. They’d spend hours in the playroom with trucks and cars and blocks, Sandor’s massive form lying on the floor alongside Alek’s tiny one making Sansa’s heart beat just a little faster. And one night when they’d babysit and Rhett had fallen asleep on his chest she had broke down in tears over wanting him to be a father. Sandor had reluctantly admitted that he could fall in love with doing this.

He had to know. He had to know first. In a daze, she got up and walked to the closet, grabbing her coat and a bag. She waved goodbye to the contractors on the way out, made sure that Lady was still confined to the garage where she was banished during the work hours, and got in her car to drive to the arena, still shocked.

She made her way down to the workout rooms. She knew that Sandor was running conditioning camps and team meetings. He came home every day with more stories about his players and Sansa had met most of them at mixers earlier in the month. She was walking down the hallway when she heard them talking in one of the boardrooms. She paused to listen and seeing if Sandor was in there. After a moment, it was clear he was.

“—and you know most of the guys think your wife is the hottest one?” she heard Bronn remark. She heard Sandor chuckle and some papers shuffling.

“Yeah, I’ve threatened to crack a couple skulls. That’s how it goes. When they meet Marg, they’ll say the same.”

“Oh, so you agree my girlfriend’s hotter?”

“That’s not what I said asshole. Besides, Sansa’s got everything. You know that. It’s not just the looks, it the sweetness and the lemon bars.”

“And those fucking brownies. Things still good after the move then?” Bronn sounded like he was trying to be lighthearted, and Sansa listened in carefully. Things had seemed to be doing okay with her and Sandor, but she knew the move and job was stressful for him.

“Great,” Sandor answered. “You know, I knew things were going to be fine. We both agreed to this, she was excited for her job and the house, it was just getting the move out of the way. But she’s really been great. Fuck man, I know how lucky I am to have her.”

“Yeah, she’s ten times hotter than you, you bastard.”

“I know.”

“Hey.” Sansa figured now was as good a time as any to introduce herself, poking her head around the doorframe.

“Sansa.” Sandor looked surprised, while Bronn came over to kiss both her cheeks.

“Hey, Bronn. How are you doing?” she asked him sweetly.

“I have to work with him everyday.” Bronn jerked his thumb over his shoulder at Sandor. “But gives me a chance to see your beautiful face.”

“Very smooth.” Sansa patted his shoulder. “Can I, uh, talk to Sandor alone?”

“I’ll talk to you tomorrow?” Bronn suggested, grabbing his briefcase. Sandor nodded and waited until he was out of the room to turn to Sansa with concern.

“What’s wrong sweetheart?” he came over to her side instantly. Sansa hesitated, wanting to explain to him and promise that everything would be okay before she realized she couldn’t, then pulled the pregnancy test from her bag and set it on the table in front of him silently.

He looked at her, then looked at the test. He repeated this about half a dozen times before he reached out and picked up the test, inspecting it like it was going to reveal the secrets of the universe to him if he only stared at it long enough. Sansa watched him, biting her lip. She had no idea what he was going to tell her or how he might react. So she waited, and waited, until she felt like she was going to burst.

“It’s mine!” she blurted out unnecessarily and Sandor’s lips twitched.

“Well I hoped you wouldn’t bring me someone else’s positive pregnancy test.”

“Well?” she demanded, bouncing slightly on the balls of her feet.

“Well?” he raised an eyebrow at her.

“We’re pregnant!” she practically yelled. “Freak out!”

“I am, just…. In here.” he gestured to his head.

“Well do it verbally so that I can join you.”

“You’re nervous?” Sandor set down the test to pull her into a hug. “Why?”

“Why? Why? Because we’re having a baby, that’s why! And you said that you weren’t sure about wanting them, and I didn’t want them until we were settled and now we’re here and it’s the worst time and I just can’t wrap my head around it so I can’t even imagine how it must be for you and I don’t know who to tell but obviously I had to tell you and I—”

Sandor cut her off with the softest, slowest kiss of her life. All of Sansa’s worries slowly melted away as he pulled her closer and closer until he pulled back and gave her the most tender smile she’d ever seen.

“God, Sansa, you’re gonna be a great mom. I know it’s not the best time, but is there ever a best time?”

“I thought I’d have to be the one to talk you off a ledge,” she joked weakly and Sandor just pulled her in for another hug.

“I’m not scared of anything. Not when I do it with you.”

“I love you,” she whispered, relaxing into his arms. For a few minutes, they were quiet. Then Sansa leaned her head back and gave Sandor a sheepish grin.

“What?” he asked her.

“You know this is going to mean that my mom is going to move here. And I’d say temporarily but I don’t want to lie to you or anything.”

“That’ll be okay too,” he promised and Sansa briefly wondering if he’d been smoking Seattle's legal weed but decided to roll with it, happy that he’d taken her news so well.

He sent her home with the promise to bring her anything she wanted and after Sansa called her doctor to get appointments set up, she called Talisa to share the news. Her sister-in-law burst into tears and couldn’t be stopped for several minutes, but once the sobbing had subsided, she was full of questions.

“And how did Sandor react?” she demanded.

“So good.” Sansa was sitting on the couch, staring at the fireplace that had just been installed. Now that the shock was wearing off, excitement was setting in. They’d put the tree to the left of the fireplace, and then stack gifts around it. Her kids would come down the stairs on Christmas morning and sit on the big sectional in the living room. She could easily convert the two offices they’d been planning on into rooms for the baby, and— “he didn’t even panic or anything. He just gave me a big hug and said that he knows we can do anything together.”

“Oh, honey.” Talisa gave a little cluck. “He’s in shock. He’s going to realize it and freak out even more. This is all an act.”

“It is not,” Sansa insisted, but with less certainty than she’d felt before. “Was it with Robb?”

“Oh, sure. He told me that getting pregnant with Alek was fate. Not even twelve hours later I had to talk him down from buying a plane ticket to Las Vegas.”

“Las Vegas?” 

“He was convinced he’d never do anything for himself again,” she explained nonchalantly and Sansa glanced at the mac desktop in the corner.

“Sandor will be fine,” she stated, without much conviction.

“Sansa!” he burst into the house a few hours later. Sansa, laying on the couch with Lady and almost dozing, bolted upright.

“God, what?”

“A baby!” Sandor’s arms were laden with bags. Sansa squinted at them, trying to see what the bulky shapes would manifest into. “Sansa, we’re pregnant! Do you know what that means? We have so much to get done!”

“We have nine months?” Sansa tried to catch up. Sandor was pacing with a frantic look in his eyes; she hadn’t seen him so nervous since he was waiting for the call to join the Seattle coaching staff.

“That’s not enough time. Do you know how many things can go wrong? I wasn’t planning on this! The house is still under construction! You need to stay in a hotel. You can’t be breathing in anything from the house, it could be bad for the baby!”

“Oh god, Talisa was right.” Sansa rolled off the couch and rushed for him. “What happened to not being scared because we’re doing it together?”

“I don’t know anything about kids!” Sandor grabbed her hands, pleading. His eyes were wild and if Sansa hadn't actually been worried about him having a heart attack, this all would have been very amusing. “Sansa, what are we doing? We aren’t ready for this!”

“Do you want this?” Sansa asked him carefully and that stopped him in his tracks. He looked at her as though she'd grown six heads and had suggested they boil puppies for dinner. 

“God, yes!”

“Then think about that.” Sansa smiled and kissed his nose. “A little girl with your wavy hair. My eyes. All your seriousness and my spunk. Or a little boy, ginger and great at hockey. Whoever is in here. Just think about them. It’s all going to be okay.”

“There’s someone in there,” Sandor remarked with wonder. Then he knelt down and carefully cradled her stomach, addressing it rather than her. “You’re in there. You’re going to come here, and you’re going to be my kid. Mine. Well, and your mother’s. I promise that I’ll get it figured out before you come, okay?”

“They know.” Sansa was crying again, but she felt it was allowed this time. “They know.”

“Me, you, and a baby.” Sandor shook his head before he was attacked by a frantic Lady, trying to lick his face.

“Me, you, a baby, and Lady,” Sansa amended and he chuckled, standing and kissing her head. “So, uh, you want to tell me what all you bought?”

“Diapers and formula and wipes and this weird thing that I thought was a breast pump but I’m not sure.” he pulled back to look at the bags critically and Sansa tried not to laugh, giving him another kiss.

“You’re going to be a great daddy. I love you.”

**Author's Note:**

> you all know the drill this is my passion project please leave love it is so appreciated


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